1929, New York City, Brooklyn

Connie Oswald sighed, staring up at the dismally gray sky as her feet dangled up above the ground. Digging her bare feet into the dry grass, she shoved away and up into the sky, the make-shift swing groaning even under her slight weight.

"Steve, you've got to stop doing this."

Connie continued swinging, her sharp eyes following the path of her neighbors' son. From what she remembered, he was roughly her age, as was the boy limping beside him. She pointed her toes forward, closing her eyes as the breeze brushed against her face.

"I'm fine, Bucky," Steve retorted, wiping a gob of blood from his nose. Connie blinked down at them as she soared back and forth underneath the old oak. "That poor kid didn't mean to spill the teacher's chalk."

"I know he didn't," Connie's neighbor retorted. "But it's probably not the greatest idea to throw yourself between that kid and Mr. Miles. He's a tough one."

"He's a bully," Steve snapped.

"I know, Steve. Just come inside, okay? I need to get you patched up so your mom doesn't worry," Bucky sighed.

Connie skidded to a halt, watching as the best friends disappeared inside her neighbor's house.

1932, New York City, Brooklyn

"Come on, Connie," Bucky sighed, leaning against the screen door of her house, his pants too short ever since his growth spurt in the summer. "I just need someone who's good with sewing."

"And you think I am?" Connie scoffed. "Is that because I'm a girl?"

"No, it's because you were the one who sewed that shirt for Steve when he couldn't find anything that didn't swallow him," Bucky retorted. He arched his eyebrows, frowning at her. It might have been intimidating if his voice hadn't cracked at the end of his sentence. Connie stifled a giggle, and he scowled.

"My dad wants me to bring in the firewood before he gets back from the soup kitchen," Connie sighed, shivering as a cold breeze swept through the screen door. Bucky's shoulders hunched over in an attempt to keep warm, his blue eyes staring deeply into her. Another type of shiver ran down her spine.

"I'll get the firewood," he promised. "It's too cold out here, anyway."

"You're not even wearing a coat!" she protested, opening the screen door and stubbornly standing outside in the chill January weather. Bucky frowned at her.

"Neither are you! Get back inside before I have to deal with your pneumonia, too," he snapped, gently placing his hand on her back and ushering her inside.

"Wait, at least take this," Clara demanded, grabbing her father's spare scarf and wrapping it around his neck. He blinked down at her, his breath frosty in the winter air. She realized her hands were still on his shoulders. When had he grown so tall? "I'll do the sewing," she said hastily, pulling away. Somehow, Bucky looked slightly crestfallen.

"I'll bring in the firewood," the neighbor boy replied.

1936, New York City, Brooklyn

"No, don't say things like that." Connie frowned determinedly, the ancient swing groaning and wheezing in the summer breeze.

"I'm just saying," Steve replied dryly, stifling a cough. "It's pretty obvious."

"Bucky would be the last boy on earth to want to date me, Steve," she said primly. "We're neighbors. Friends. Besides, I'm so short and he's…." She trailed off as Steve coughed again. "I'm sorry," she apologized hurriedly.

"It's fine." He shrugged again. "I'm short, too. Bucky has us both beat."

"What? I don't beat anyone!" Bucky's outraged voice called from the other house. He stuck his head out, glaring at both of them while he clutched a science textbook.

"Get back to your homework," Steve and Connie yelled back.

1940, New York City, Brooklyn

Connie gaped, her heart racing as Bucky watched her closely. "You can't… be serious," she whispered, stepping away from him. "Us? Us?"

He blinked his bright blue eyes, confusion washing over him. "You… you don't want to?"

"Why on earth would you want to take me to a dance?" she scoffed.

He leaned back in his seat, arching an eyebrow at her. She inwardly cursed herself for having such an attractive neighbor. That little smirk when he was flirting playing with her…. "Maybe I want to go to a dance with you because you're… you're my friend," he murmured, nervously fiddling with his fingers before glancing back up to meet her gaze. "So, whaddya say?"

Her heart sank a little, but relief swept through her. If he didn't feel the way she'd thought, then she could let go of that nagging hope. "I'd like to, but Dad needs my help in the garage that night. I'm sure Betty would love to go, though."

"Yeah… yeah. Betty's a cute dame," Bucky mumbled, smiling a little too widely at her.

1943, New York City, Brooklyn

"Long time, Connie."

Connie started, whirling around. In some strange, impossible way, her heart both sank through the floor and leapt into her throat. Bucky Barnes was standing behind her, a sergeant's military uniform fitting him nicely. Sharp blue eyes glittered at her, his mouth quirked up in a smirk. "J-James," she stuttered, dropping her textbooks as the students noisily filed out of the classroom, chatting eagerly about the army man.

"My, it's been awhile," she said breathlessly as the last student stumbled out, gaping unabashedly at her former neighbor. "How have you been? How did that dance with Betty ever go?"

He grinned broadly at her. Somehow, in the last few years, his grins had gone from goofy, to warm and familiar, to… incredibly attractive. She didn't appreciate it. "Not as good as it would have been with you," he chuckled. "Speaking of dancing… do you want to go to the Stark Expo with me tonight? One last hurrah?" He saluted at her. "I ship out in the morning."

A strange lump rose up in her throat. "You're leaving? Tomorrow?"

He laughed, scuffing the floor with his shiny shoe. "Yeah. Thought I'd say goodbye to one of my best friends." He grinned at her again, all straight white teeth and sky blue eyes and the faint scent of his aftershave. She hadn't forgotten what it smelled like.

"Right.. yeah," she replied, still breathless for some incredibly stupid reason she didn't want to contemplate. "I'll miss seeing you and Steve stumbling back from those fights you always got into. Thank goodness I learned how to stitch up wounds, hm?"

He laughed again, his eyes crinkling up in amusement before a somber mood came over him. "Steve will be safe here. He keeps trying to enlist but…" He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I just don't want him to see all the evil that's out there. I wish he could become an artist, and just… stay safe. With you. Both of you. Who knows, I'll probably come back and the two of you will have three kids together or something-"

"NO!" Clara said emphatically. He blinked in surprise. "We're friends, James. Get that through your thick skull."

"I don't know, it's gotten pretty thin after all those punches I got to the head fighting alongside Steve," Bucky replied dryly, glancing briefly at her to see if she'd smiled. He sighed as she frowned at him. "So if you and Steve aren't in love, that means I have to find a date for him."

"I'll get Emma to come," Connie replied hastily. Bucky nodded, staring out at the schoolyard.

"So will you come with me?" he asked, pulling himself up to his full height and tilting his head to the side like he did when he was trying to be cocky and impressive. She pursed her lips, brushing a thread off his broad shoulders.

"I suppose so," she sighed, grinning back at up at him.

Before she could react, a finger had tipped up her chin, and he planted a soft kiss on her mouth. "I was hoping you'd say yes," he breathed, winking at her before pulling away.

It wasn't until a few moments after he'd left that she realized she was still gaping at the doorway.

Later that day….

Connie grinned, twirling in front of the mirror. Satisfied with her dress and hair, she nodded at her reflection. "You're a good looking dame," she said in her best impression of Bucky's voice. Giggling a little more childishly than she cared to acknowledge, she rushed out the door, her heels clacking loudly against the pavement.

The city was fairly quiet as she strolled along, her eyes scanning the streets in case Bucky would greet her two blocks early. Something clicked in the shadows of an alley. She frowned, pausing and staring into the darkness. "Hello?"

Something whirred softly. Her palms grew a little sweaty. "Hello?" she called again, a little more hesitantly. Brave heart, Connie.

"Out of the way!"

She barely had time to register the shout as a middle-aged man leaped by, dressed eccentrically. Something huge, silver, and just enough human-like to send her heart plummeting stepped out, raising its arm. "NO!" she shouted, jumping into its path. Her head whirled with some faint memory, the one that had plagued her ever since she could remember. "Run!" she called to the man.

A surge of energy passed through her, and she convulsed on the ground. "You… will… be… deleted…" An inhuman voice roared as the world went dark.

"Mother?" Connie whispered as another figure appeared in the distance. "How…?"

Her body slumped, lifeless. Two blocks away, Bucky paced back and forth, eager for his first date with Connie Oswald.